


Holmes sisters medley

by Cutebutpsycho



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Everything is the Same, Except it's the Holmes sisters not the Holmes siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-01 17:23:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10194911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutebutpsycho/pseuds/Cutebutpsycho
Summary: Currently just a bunch of doodles about how things would've been different if Mycroft, Sherlock and Eurus were sisters, instead of siblings. It might help to picture Mycroft as a young Helen Mirren, but if you go with Mark Gatiss in drag, whatever floats your boat :D.





	1. Chapter 1

Even though Musgrave Hall remained a burned-out shell, a monument to a dark and terrible time, down the trail, was a cottage where Mycroft’s parents lived. A little farther past that cottage was the woods. That was where Mycroft had her appointment today.

Thankfully her parents weren’t around, sparing her from having to pop in for a visit. She wasn’t sure if she could have endured more questions about her life, how Sherlock was and judgments on whether or not she was eating. It was tedious, to say the least.

The car stopped on the gravel path and Mycroft sighed, steeling herself for her upcoming meeting. She wasn’t sure which version of her baby sister she would get. The icy scientist? The manic musician? Would she be full of fire and anger from being exiled to the countryside while her sisters were in London? 

A caretaker came and opened her door. Mycroft exited and nodded curtly. “How is she?”

“Happy,” the man replied. “She’s been taking her medication without complaint and going for long walks. She seems to be more content than usual.”

While it was tempting to thank the universe for that blessing, Mycroft knew something else was lurking under the surface. 

“Has she been receiving any mail lately?”

The orderly shook his head. “No, but she’s been going for walks.”

“A usual route?”

Another shake of the head.

Mycroft took a deep sigh. How disappointing that the man wasn’t observant enough. “Very well,” she replied. “Let me see my sister. Go take a walk.”

The man nodded and started to stroll away when Mycroft called out, “Oh, and remind me to call your supervisor for your dunderheaded method of handling my sister. You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“Yes ma’am,” the man said, shoulders sagging, before disappearing around the corner.

The interior of the cottage was tidy and neat. Eurus was seated at the small table, a pot of tea and two mugs ready for visitors, along with a plate of cookies. There was a vase of wildflowers adding some color to the clean white room. 

It was disconcerting to say the least. 

“Sister!” Eurus sprang up, giving Mycroft a hug. Mycroft stiffened in her sister’s embrace.

“Eurus,” Mycroft nodded. “How are you?”

“Well.” 

This was worrying, Mycroft thought as she removed her coat and draped it on a chair. Eurus was rarely that ebullient. Today she was vibrating with joy. 

The last time Mycroft had seen this, Eurus tried to murder a caretaker she had seduced. 

“You look good,” Mycroft said slowly, studying the water in the flowers. Eurus had put glitter in the water. The grey light sparkled and shone in the water. Another bad sign. Eurus rarely used glitter unless things were going in a dangerous direction.

“It’s spring,” Eurus said, sliding back into her seat and pouring a cup of tea for Mycroft. “Do you want milk?”

Mycroft shook her head. “No thank you,” she said carefully. “I’ve no appetite today.”

Eurus stopped, studied Mycroft and began laughing. “Oh my God,” she giggled. “I’m not going to poison you today. I need a favor from you.” 

“Still no appetite,” Mycroft replied. “Now what is this favor?”

Eurus got up, went to a cabinet and pulled out a sheaf of letters wrapped in a ribbon.  _ What is this? Wuthering Heights?  _ Mycroft inwardly sneered. 

Plunking them down in front of Mycroft, Eurus smoothed the ribbon. “I’m in love,” she began. “Read these. You will see.”

Mycroft undid the ribbon and began reading. Inwardly she recoiled at the purple prose. But she couldn’t disguise the full body shudder as she saw the signature on the letters.

_ My everlasting love, _

_ James Moriarty _

“Oh sister,” Eurus cooed. “Isn’t it romantic?”

“Quite.”

“Now I need a little favor,” Eurus continued, not noticing the chill in her sister’s voice. “I want you to bring him to me. He’s ever so eager to meet and I want to see him.”

Mycroft sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry,” she began. “I can’t.”

Eurus stopped. She glared at Mycroft. “Why not?”

“Do you even know who he is?” Mycroft began. “Do you know his connection to Sherlock?”

Eurus rolled her eyes. “Of course I do,” she said. “He explained everything in this letter,” she rummaged through the pile and handed it to Mycroft.

Mycroft read it over. It was a letter begging for understanding and forgiveness, saying that the past attraction to Sherlock was done and gone and he found her to be more compatible, a meeting of minds, everlasting love, blah, blah, blah.

“Still no,” Mycroft said after finishing the letter of lies. “He will ruin you in ways you can’t imagine.”

Eurus stiffened. “Fine,” she said, straightening her posture. “If you won’t bring him, I’ll find someone who will.”

“They’ll have orders not to let him on the estate,” Mycroft continued. “Don’t you realize he’ll break your heart?”

Eurus’ tone got colder. “It’s my heart to break. I’ll decide that.”

“The last time that happened, we nearly had murder on our hands,” Mycroft replied. “And I know he’s only interested in hurting Sherlock.”

Eurus stamped her foot. “No,” she said. “He loves me.”

“My dear. You don’t know what Moriarty’s done in London. The explosives, the threats, nearly killing Sherlock on that asinine quest. They’re both caught up in some sort of sick and twisted game that you don’t need to be brought into.”

“Liar,” Eurus hissed. “Of course you’d deny me happiness,” she snapped. “You always favored Sherlock. Always granted her anything she wanted.”

Mycroft shook her head. “You know that’s not true.”

“Then why did you give up Irene for her?”

_ Damn that time I got pissed with Eurus _ , Mycroft inwardly sighed, regretting that confession made after too many shots of tequila. “Irene and her games made Sherlock happier and I knew that from the moment I saw the blackmail letter,” Mycroft said. “Of course Sherlock would love that puzzle. I found it dull to be honest.”

“Liar.”

“In any case,” Mycroft stood and gathered her things. “That’s not relevant. My answer is no. No access to James Moriarty. I am going to warn Mummy and Daddy about this as well as the caretakers. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to be leaving.”

“Of course you would leave,” Eurus snapped, flying out of her seat, sending the chair backwards. “Can’t deal with emotions like love, oh no. You don’t like anything you can’t control.”

“I don’t like risk without reward, and this has no reward, only ruin.” Mycroft donned her coat. “Good day Eurus,” she said. “I’ll see you next week.”

“I’ll find a way to see him you know,” she called out as Mycroft opened the door.

“I’ll find a way to stop it,” Mycroft said, then closed the door behind her. She tried to ignore the scream of rage she heard and the sound of a vase hitting the floor.

Instead, she started thinking about the future. Things were about to get complicated very quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sundance201 on tumblr gave me this prompt: "Stop playing with your food."

Mycroft always hated Christmas. It was the one holiday where she couldn’t beg off of visiting or avoiding. Everything shut down in England for Christmas as people were forced home to make nice with relatives that they barely tolerated each year.

And this year was no exception. Mycroft sat at Christmas dinner with her sisters and parents, moving the dry roast around from one side of the plate to the other, trying to hide her lack of appetite from her mother. The dinner silence was stifling. Other things were taking up her considerable brain power – eating was the least of her priorities right now.

“Stop playing with your food,” Eurus sing-songed at her.

Mycroft looked up and saw the youngest smirking at her. “Not much of an appetitie,” she said. 

“Is it work dear?” her mother asked, obviously worried. Mycroft rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to start telling her mother everything – not that she could in most normal circumstances anyways.

“A bit,” she replied, mashing an overdone carrot with her fork. She took a sip of the red wine. “There’s a lot on my plate this year.”

Sherlock chuckled, “Really much of that would cease to be a worry if you stopped meddling,” she started.

Mycroft sucked in a breath. Of course it would happen during Christmas – it wasn’t uncommon to have her sisters gang up on her. But this year, it was exhausting holding all the secrets to try and keep things civilized.

The silence in the room got tense. She glanced at Mummy who was sitting there with a mildly shocked expression on her face. Daddy looked befuddled – but she knew he was connecting something under the surface. Daddy was quicker with emotions than Mummy, so he would soon figure out it had to do with the three of them.

“I can’t help it if your business is interfering with my business,” she started diplomatically. The _Do you really want me to bring all this to light?_  was left unsaid, but everyone understood the implication.

“Yes Mycroft,” Eurus chimed in, a nasty smile on her face. “You wouldn’t be so stressed if you weren’t playing Mother all the time.”

She bit her lip and counted to ten internally. It didn’t work. It was tempting to stand up and blurt out all the secrets – Moriarty, the drugs, Irene Adler and a host of other issues – but that would also compromise her work.

And if there was anything Mycroft was known for, it was discretion.

Instead, she stood. 

“Mother, Father,” she nodded in their directions, “I need to return to London.”

“Eurus, Sherlock,” she glared at her sisters, “It’s been a delight.”

She stormed out of the dining room, gathered her coat and was about to go to the car when she heard her mother calling for her.

There was the sound of footsteps on gravel as her mother caught up to her.

“Come back,” her mother pleaded, hand on her arm, “You know they’re only trying to get a rise out of you.”

“I will not,” Mycroft replied. “I am this close to doing something regrettable and I will not do that on Christmas. Let me excuse myself.”

There was a long silence as she sensed her mother considering this. After a moment, she let go of her daughter. Mycroft unlocked her car, slid into the driver’s seat and headed out into the night. 

Christmas was always the worst.


End file.
